


Voca Me

by suchanadorer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Prompt Fill, SRS 2012, after a fashion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 22:01:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/suchanadorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://srs2012.dreamwidth.org/3911.html?thread=78151#cmt78151">Prompt at SRS:</a> <i>With the apocalypse looming, Lucifer prays for the first time since he'd fallen to the one being he ever truly loved.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Voca Me

Lucifer doesn’t need a church. Lucifer _is_ a church. Wherever he is becomes hallowed ground, be it a garden, a desert, or an abandoned theater in Detroit.

Sam will come tonight. Lucifer knows this. He knows that he and Dean have collected the Horsemen’s rings and mean to throw him back into his cage. He has no intention of going, but he can admire the ingenuity in the plan.

He knows who gave them the idea, too.

“Why did you send him?” He implores the empty room, as if the black walls and dirty windows can give him answers. “What sense of duty to mankind did you instill in him that led him there? He wasn’t there to save me, but to save those petty gods _from_ me, his own brother. He said he was on people’s side. He died for them, and that alone would be reason enough for me to wipe from the Earth. They did not deserve such a hero.”

The floorboards creak as he paces, head bowed, hands clasped behind his back.

“I loved him, but because of you I had to kill him. Was it worth it, to see me brought so low that I would spill the blood of my own brother? You drove him away, with your wrath and your unwillingness to understand, until the only place that he could find peace was among pagans and humans. And when he returned it was to kill me, and Michael. He said he would; would you have me choose which brother to save? Why not kill me and let them live?”

His voice rises and he stops walking the floor, turning his face to the ceiling. He grits his teeth in aggravation at the silence.

“No, because I am too important to you. You made a martyr of me, cast me out for the strength of my love, and yet even despite that, I am called upon to be your most important servant. Everything I do is still your will. Paradise cannot be brought about without conflict, and for that to happen you need two sides. You knew that none of us would ever willingly stand against you, so you pushed me out. I could not serve those parasites, and so I became your opposite number. In casting me out, you also raised me up, made me that which you accused me of aspiring to all along.”

He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, ignoring the pull of skin where it flakes and peels along his cheekbone.

“I only ever loved you,” he continues, softer now. “You thought I wanted to rise above you, but I would have served you in every way for all of eternity, but for this one thing that you could not overlook. And so I sought to build a new kingdom. Not better or greater, just _apart_ , where we would not be forced to bow to man, with all his flaws.”

His tone is one of pleading, and his brows knit together as he remembers and tries, once again, to explain.

“I did not want to be greater than you, but to be _as_ you, the way any son emulates his father. But there could be only one king in Heaven, and so I fell from your love, my only home. You saw to it that I got my kingdom: A throne as far from your light as you could put it, in a place filled with the souls of those who had forsaken you in the most horrible ways, or never even seen your glory. Is that really how you see me?”

His voice rises again, this time to a cry.

_“All I ever did was love you and try to serve you!”_

The windows are covered with a thick coating of frost now, and they crackle while Lucifer stands in frustrated silence.

“Why must this burden be mine to bear? I was your favorite son. I shone so brightly for you. Would that I could stand before your throne and look upon you again, but I am no longer allowed in your kingdom. It is one of my many punishments, and one of the hardest to bear.”

He moves to the window and scrapes the frost aside to look out at the street.

“I would ask if you still think you did the right thing. Look at what humanity has done to this precious gift you gave them! They are ungrateful wretches not fit to share your splendor, and yet you give them infinite forgiveness, leaving no measure of mercy for me.

“I would ask why you send Michael in your stead,” he continues, as if holding a real conversation. “I have no desire to kill my brother, even if it will bring me closer to purging this planet of the vermin that you have given it to. He is my brother, but before that he is your son, and he will do what you tell him. And you have told him to kill me.”

His voice breaks, and he leans his forehead against the glass.

“I would ask you about the cost of Gabriel, and Michael, and your satisfaction with mankind, but your throne is empty. You have left, abandoning all your children, and so they have made their own plans. They will have their paradise, with or without you, but to get it they must go through me.”

The Impala rolls up outside the theater. Lucifer sighs and nods to himself. He knows about the weapon they carry, and about Sam’s plan to say yes.

“I had hoped to see you again before the end. You are my father. I miss you, and I love you,” he whispers.

"Father. _Please._ If you're there..."

When there is no answer, he pushes the pain down and locks it away deep inside himself. Sam and Dean will be coming up the stairs soon, and he must be ready for them.


End file.
